The Third
by Gremblin
Summary: Skinner was the second, he's met up with the third. Complete summary inside.
1. Chapter 1

**The year is 1907. The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen is no more, having ended with the death of Allan Quartermain.**

**The once-were members have all gone their separate ways, keeping in minimal contact.**

**Only the once-were members of the league would be able to even hold a chance at finding each other.**

**Remarkably, the easiest to find is the second invisible man, Rodney Skinner. Or at least, the used to be second invisible man.**

**Not long after Quartermain's funeral, with the help of Henry Jekyll, Skinner was cured of his invisibility with the help of a now dead doctor.**

**Skinner, overjoyed at being visible again, immediately abandoned his life of crime.**

**Astounding everybody, he became the priest of a church that had taken him in off the streets as a child.**

**He quickly became quite renowned at working miracles for people that were on the fast road to hell.**

**He refused to let other people follow the road he had.**

**Our story starts one rainy night, with a person coming in out of the storm.**

**0o0o0o0o0**


	2. Chapter 2

Rodney Skinner, now known as Father Skinner to the town he lived and had grown up in, sat in front of the altar, praying. Had any of his old friends come in they most likely would have been astounded at the act. But Skinner had turned over a new leaf. He had been given a second chance at life and he wasn't going to pass it up. As soon as he had been given his visibility back he had sworn away his life of crime sworn 'never again'. It had been hard at first, walking down the street and not letting his itchy fingers use the five finger discount. Many of the League had been astounded at how he looked, not believing why he'd wanted to be invisible in the first place. He had been told many times that he was gorgeous, something that women would enjoy goggling at for hours and not get tired. He had only laughed and shrugged their words away. He had been perfectly aware of the fact his whole life, it was one of the reasons he had gotten into the thieving business in the first place. He figured having the face of an angel would allow him to talk his way out of any sticky situations. As a boy it had in fact worked. But the older he got the less it worked, until it stopped working altogether.

He was, in fact, quite proud of how he looked. He took very good care of himself. His face was carefully shaven so that no five o'clock shadow showed. His hair was carefully cut to the perfect length, and stuck up at odd angles in such a way that it only accentuated his features. His face was supposedly perfectly sculpted, almost as if a painter had come along and drawn it. He had been told by many people that had come to church that the priests robes he rarely took off only made him even more of a heartthrob. No, he wasn't vain. But he did take good care of himself. Attendance to church services had doubled since Skinner had taken on the job of priest.

But today attendance was at zero. The storm of the century was raging through the small town and Skinner had been forced to cancel the services for fear of people trying to get through the storm and being hurt. He wouldn't have that happen. Yes, a few people had shown up for the services. Skinner had put on a services specially for them, not wanting them to have braved the storm for nothing. But only a couple had arrived. Everyone else had stayed at home. They figured God would understand their reasons and forgive them. They could always ask forgiveness when the storm ended.

Not many knew it, but Skinner had always loved the idea of being a priest. He was a very religious man, praying forgiveness for his sins every sunday and going to church whenever he could. Usually no one knew he was there, but they didn't need to. It was the thought that counted, right? He even gave confession when he was able. Never usually to the same priest. He had studied to become a priest as a child, but had quickly given up on the dream when the other children he was studying with continually told him that 'no orphan will become a priest. God doesn't like people with lepers for parents'. Boy had they been wrong.

Skinner looked up when the large oak doors opened. It was past midnight and he wasn't expecting anybody to come in. Most sane people were asleep at this time. You may be wondering what Skinner was doing awake, then. The procedure that had given him his invisibility had a side effect. While the procedure left Skinner invisible to the human eye, it also left him unable to go to sleep. His body just isn't capable of falling into the beloved state. The most he can do is fall into unconsciousness or a state of semi-wakefulness. It was a weakness that he had told to nobody, kept guarded close to his heart. Winds blew at his face and he was forced to block them with his sleeved arm. Only when the doors were closed with a hollow sounding slam did Skinner lower his arm and look up. He looked at the doors, to see the signs of a person's hand having been there moments before. But upon looking around the room, it was easy to see that no one was there. At least, no one visible. He stood up and walked slowly to the spot, touching the handle. It was wet, with water and small spots of diluted blood. Skinner, having been invisible for a large majority of his life, had grown the uncanny talent of noticing things most people missed. He heard a ragged breathing coming from his left, but as was previously noticed, no one visible was there. He glanced down at the floor and saw footprints -bare footprints- leading from the door to a pew two rows away from where Skinner stood. He followed them and carefully ran his hand along the wood of the bench. It only took a few seconds for him to find what he was looking for. His hand found an invisible head of hair. Now that he was closer to the invisible person he could see many cuts upon their body. Skinner wasn't sure if they were all self inflicted, but he was sure of one thing. This person needed help, and quickly. Not many people would be willing to take in an invisible person, but Skinner felt the need to help this person. He knew what it was like, what torture it was to be unable to sleep and unable to walk down the street and say 'hello' to anybody without creating a panic about demons and ghosts.

He was determined to help the third invisible person, no matter what the cost.

Skinner carefully picked the person up. They seemed to be unconscious, or just too weak to protest. He carried the person into his private room, given to him by the monks of the church. Yes, Rodney Skinner had monks at his command. None of them knew of his questionable background. There was no way to connect him with his past acts, being invisible gave him that security.

Skinner walked into his bedroom, decorated with only a picture of himself (visible, but still dressed in only a trenchcoat) standing alongside his fellow leaguers. It was the only possession he owned, only possession the monks would allow him to keep. He had told them it was a picture of the people that had saved his life (which was partially true) and the only memory of them he had. Skinner couldn't help but grin momentarily at the look Mina had on her face. She was standing next to him in the picture, and her expression was one of someone that was completely disgusted but was trying to hide the fact. She had been one of the only ones under protest of Skinner wearing only his trenchcoat (nothing else, literally) in the picture. Everyone else had said it was for memories, and Skinner had promised to put clothes on right after. Mina had found an element that allowed her picture to be taken, and that picture was the first one to be taken upon the discovery of the rare but extraordinary mineral.

Skinner snapped out of the memory when he placed the sheets over the invisible person. The form the sheets took weren't one of a man, as he had been expecting. It was one of a woman. Skinner gulped, the monks weren't going to like this. It was a rule of monks that you weren't allowed to have a woman in your room alone with you. Something about swearing off those kinds of thoughts and acts. It was one of those rules Skinner didn't like but lived with anyways.

He quickly left to collect one of the monks. He was about to leave when a gasp reached his ears that forced him to turn around in surprise. The blankets were no longer covering the entire form of the girl, instead falling down to her waist. She had sat up upon waking up.

"Who- who are you?" She demanded in an American accent. "Where am I? Why am I in this room? What were you planning to do to me?" Skinner couldn't help but grin in mirth at the questions. He was a priest, yet still the first thing people thought was that he was up to no good.

"Rodney Skinner, at your service." Skinner bowed Japanese style to the girl. "I'm the priest of the church you decided to fall unconscious in, and as no other beds were available, I decided to let you stay in mine. I was planning on getting you some medical attention for those wounds of yours." Skinner grinned, imagining the doubtful look on her face. He knew that was the look he was receiving because of the fact she grabbed the sheets at her waist and pulled them to cover her invisible body. Skinner realized that she must not have been invisible for very long, otherwise she would have pushed the sheets off her completely and gotten out of the bed to make herself completely invisible to him. Instead of making it easier to see where she was.

"I don't believe you." She said simply. "Why should I believe you?" She asked. Skinner's eyebrows shot up to his hairline. Why should she believe him? She obviously hadn't been in the village long. He was well known to all the people that lived in the small town. This town was like most other ones of similar size. Everybody knows everybody else.

"You could choose anybody at random in this village and they'll tell you exactly who I am. The priest of this church, just as I said. If they distrust anybody, it'll be you. Stranger's aren't particularly welcome here." Skinner explained. It was true, it had taken him the better part of a year to gain the trust of the people in the town despite having grown up there.

His speech seemed to have struck a cord with the woman. He immediately felt guilty for it, as it seemed to depress her. Skinner could figure out why, he had been hard pressed to find someone that trusted him when he was invisible. Even friends that had known him since he was a young child seemed to loose trust in him. It was the curse of not being able to be seen at all times.

Skinner walked to the dresser, where he kept spare clothes. It was normal clothes, just in case he got tired of his priests robes. It wasn't likely to happen, however. His priests robes let his status in the village known. This village held their religious leaders higher even than their political leaders. If he felt the need Skinner would be able to practically choose the winners of the election for town mayor. If he showed any distaste in anybody the person was shunned by the other townspeople until he forgave them. It was power he was unused to, and doubted he'd ever be used to.

Opening the wardrobe, he saw his trenchcoat. He hadn't been able to part with it upon becoming priest. It was practically a part of him, having been the only venue of visibility for a large portion of his life. He knew, should he reach into one of the pockets he'd find the tin of white face paint. Monks robes were also hung in the closet. Skinner motioned for the girl to come forward, which she did so reluctantly.

"Here. Put something on, I'll be in enough trouble having you in here dressed. The monks will give me hell for having you in here naked." Skinner told her.

"Father, how would you know that I'm naked?" She questioned as she pulled a set of robes out of the dresser. Skinner passed her the facepaint and sunglasses, which she quickly put on, before answering her

"I carried you in here, didn't I?" Skinner grinned as he opened the door. It lead to a long hall with identical doors all the way down it. At the end it turned right, but it didn't take a genius to guess that more doors were down that hallway too. It was the kind of setup that only those who were used to it would know their way around. Skinner pointed to one door.

"This way." He said, leading her through the door. It led into the large church hall, where a three of the monks now sat praying. They looked up at Skinner, then at the girl with the facepaint, sunglasses, and monks robes (hood pulled up) beside him. Their eyes narrowed, thinking the worst of their leader and priest. One stood up and walked towards them.

"A woman in monks robes, father?" The monk questioned.

"She came for help, brother John. Nothing more. Her clothes were in a state of ruins when she came in." Skinner explained.

"What of the sunglasses and face paint?" A second monk questioned as he walked up behind John.

"Her skin and eyes are particularly fragile to light. _Any_ kind of light." Skinner explained, stressing the 'any'. Candles strewn around the room cast light over everything. The monks seemed to buy the story, having heard of conditions like this before. Rare as they were, it wasn't unthinkable. It explained why she was wearing a set of robes two sizes too big for her. Accepting the story, at least for that moment, the two went and sat back down.

Skinner led her towards the door, opening them a crack and looking outside. The storm had started dying down. It was only raining now, but promised to start back up again. He opened the door wide enough for them to walk out.

"Come with me. I know a man that we can trust, that might be able to help you with your wounds." Skinner told her. He held out his hand for her to take. She looked at him, wondering if she could trust him. She had a feeling deep down inside her that she could, but that was the same feeling that had told her the procedure leaving her invisible was a good idea too.

She slowly lifted her arm and took Skinner's hand, letting herself be led away by the strange priest.


End file.
